


Speak of Grace

by LauraRoslin



Category: Major Crimes, The Closer
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRoslin/pseuds/LauraRoslin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon Raydor can see her life breaking around her with her children as the only remaining light. Despite this, she trudges through her work as a Sergeant in Internal Affairs and her personal life as a mostly-single mother with an alcoholic husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to delve into Sharon's pre-Closer/MC life and the initial separation from Jack. I don't own any of the characters and the title is from the song "Broken Crown" by Mumford & Sons. The full lyric is, "Now in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace."

She knew it the moment she stepped through the door and before she had even set her purse down. Jack’s keys were on the floor, his tie and jacket a few feet away. Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath as she scooped his items off the floor. She set his keys by her purse and carried his clothes further into the too-silent house with her. It was after 11 and she hoped that Ricky and Emily were asleep by now, even though she was desperate to see her kids.

Sighing, Sergeant Raydor slowly made her way into the kitchen and shook her head at the sight. She was going to outright strangle her husband when she found him. Assuming he stuck around long enough. She groaned and hugged his clothes close for a moment before she reached up and undid her bun, lightly shaking her hair free. The headache that had slowly been forming throughout the day was nearing unbearable now and she was ready for a pain reliever and bed. Not this.

Sharon dumped out the two half empty bottles of wine before she tossed them in the trash and turned the kitchen and hallway lights off. She made her way upstairs, pausing only to grab her husband’s shoes on the way up. She swallowed as she cracked Ricky’s door open, leaning in to look at her eight year old son. HE was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, the blankets shoved to the end of his bed. She smiled and shut his door to check on her daughter; Emily was curled up on her side with a book resting beside her. The sight made Sharon’s heart clench—she must have been waiting for Jack to read her a bedtime story and the damn man had probably been too drunk.

She shook her head and shut Emily’s door before she finally ventured into her bedroom. She was slightly surprised to see Jack had made it all the way to the bed where it looked like he had passed out midway through undressing. Deciding to leave him be, she tossed his clothes in the hamper and dropped his shoes in the closet.

Working as silently as possible, she changed into her pajamas and washed her face. Jack snored from the bedroom and was still sound asleep by the time she was ready for bed. She swallowed two pain pills and left two by the bed with a full glass of water for Jack in the morning. She watched him for a moment, wondering why the hell he had shown up today. She decided not to fret about it tonight. If he was gone come morning, so be it. Otherwise, she’d have time to find out. Slowly, the exhausted woman trudged back down the hall to the spare bedroom. She collapsed in the bed and barely managed to make it under the covers before fell asleep.

She made sure to wake early the next morning, unwilling to leave her children alone with their father any longer than necessary. She reluctantly pushed herself out of bed and fumbled on the nightstand for her glasses. She put them on and listened for the sound of anyone in the house moving. When she heard silence, her shoulders relaxed a little. She let out a long breath and made sure the three other Raydors were sleeping before she made her way downstairs and turned the coffeepot on. Yawning, she set about washing the dishes and mess that Jack had left the night before, feeling her anger build up with each wine spill or mess she could pinpoint on him. He was worse than a child!

By the time she had finished cleaning and downed her coffee and breakfast, it was time to get her kids up. She reluctantly made her way upstairs and gently shook Emily awake first by gently shaking her shoulder.

“Hey, sweetie. Time to wake up.” Emily groaned and shifted around in her small bed, stretching and yawning loudly. Sharon smiled as she watched her slowly come to, rubbing at her eyes before they blinked open.

“Morning, Mom,” the young girl mumbled as she sat up. Her braided hair was tousled from sleep, dark strands going every which way. Dark hair so much like her father.

“Good morning,” Sharon hummed as she stood up so Emily could get out of bed. “Don’t forget you have ballet after school, so make sure to take your stuff.” Emily nodded sleepily and Sharon watched her for a moment. “Get dressed and I’ll have breakfast for you when you’re done.”

“Thanks...” the eleven year old yawned. 

Sharon left her daughter to get ready and moved into Ricky’s room where the young boy was snoring peaceful. She shook her head and smiled fondly as she roused him too, though it required more nudging and name-calling than Emily did.

Jack still wasn’t awake by the time Sharon ushered her kids onto the bus and returned to the house, glancing at the clock. She was grateful--in a way--to have the day off. As long as there were no major Internal Affairs issues, there was no reason she’d have to go into work. She took a deep breath and showered herself, deciding she couldn’t have this conversation in her pajamas.

She wasn’t as gentle with Jack as she had been with waking her kids. She pushed him onto his back using his shoulder and stared at him from her side of the bed, two sharp calls of his name finally bringing him too.

“S-Sharon?” he groaned, blinking against the bright light streaming through the blinds she had opened a few minutes prior. “Christ, my head hurts.”

“No wonder,” she huffed. “Had nearly a bottle of wine last night. God knows what you had before you came home. Speaking of,” She paused long enough to hand the medicine and water to him, “what made you decide to come home?”

“What?” He spluttered and set the water down, still blinking as he turned his back on the windows and looked up at her. “What do you mean? You’re my wife, our kids are here. Why wouldn’t I come home?”

Sharon laughed and rested her hands on her hips. “You’ve been gone for two weeks, Jack. You disappeared without a word. You left--” Her voice started shaking and she stopped to get it under control again. The emotions that had been building up for two weeks were finally surfacing. “You left Emily at her ballet studio and she wasn’t even surprised. She called and asked if you had left again. She’s eleven and all you’ve taught her is how undependable you are. Instead, I had to drop everything I was doing, again, so I could pick her up.”

“She’s your daughter too. You can help--”

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she hissed, effectively silencing her husband. “Don’t you dare tell me that I can help out more around here.” She wanted to ask what had happened last night, but she was afraid she didn’t want to know the answer. “How dare you come home drunk. How dare you abandon your daughter at ballet, abandon your children overall. How dare you, Jack.”

He cringed and she shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was livid and struggling to hold back her tears as she stared at Jack. She couldn’t hide the emotions that had done nothing but fester for two weeks. If she was honest, the feelings had been growing for longer than that. This certainly wasn’t the first time he had left and she was fed up with his unreliability. A part of her had hoped that he wouldn’t come back this time.

“I need help,” Jack finally said, his voice soft. 

“Damn right about that.”

“No, I’ve... I got myself into trouble.” Sharon’s eyes widened a bit and her jaw clenched. “I owe some people some money and I need to pay up. I was hoping you could, you know. Spot me?”

Sharon clenched her hands until her nails dug into her palms as she felt her heart jump up into her throat. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew what she wanted to do.

“Did you come home... just to ask for money?” Her voice had calmed down, though she was anything but calm.

“Well, yeah... and to stay with you for a few days.”

“You... Oh, my god!” She dug her nails into her palm harder to stop herself from slapping her husband across the face. Her body was nearly vibrating with the anger contained and she was fighting to stay calm. “How dare you,” she finally whispered. “No, no. I’m done. Sort your own messes out.” She turned and started for the bedroom door with no idea of where she was going.

“Wait, Sharon! Sharon! My messes are your messes, remember! For better or for worse?” Jack yelled after her, but she did her best to tune him out.

She took the stairs two at a time and slipped into her tennis shoes by the door. She grabbed her phone and purse and hurried from the house. She noticed how her husband didn’t even bother to follow her. She climbed into her car and started the engine, tears streaming down her face before she had even pulled out of the driveway.

Somehow, she ended up in the parking garage of the LAPD. Her day off and she would rather be at work than at home. Sharon huffed and dried her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She cleared her throat and glanced at herself in the mirror, silently cursing her husband in her head.

When she decided she was composed enough to go inside, she opened her door and swore when it nearly collided with a uniformed man. She quickly shut the door until she was sure he was out of the way and then slid out and shut the door again. She came face to face with Detective Andrew Flynn, someone she knew all too well from his IA file.

“Detective Flynn...” She swallowed, ashamed to see that her hands were still shaking. 

“Shit, watch where you’re going!” He glared at her and her eyebrow shot up, all sense of her sympathy disappearing. Here was someone who had as much of a problem with alcohol as her husband did. She didn’t know much of his personal life, but she sensed it couldn’t be very spectacular. 

“Do keep in mind that you’re talking to a superior officer,  _Detective_ ,” she warned, her gaze hardening as she watched him. This was considerably easier than fretting over her failed marriage. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Flynn turned and started for the elevator. Sharon remained where she was and leaned against her car as soon as he was out of sight. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly and she closed her eyes for a few moments. 

Maybe work wasn’t the place Sharon wanted to be right now, but nothing else was coming to mind. She knew her boss would get upset about the overtime, but she could deal with that later. Sighing, she grabbed her purse and keys and opted to take the stairs into the LAPD office.

Jack stayed a grand total of four days. Long enough for him to sober up and for their kids to get used to his presence again. He left while Sharon was at work, once again abandoning their children. She returned home to find Emily sobbing in her bed, but Ricky was sound asleep. Cautiously, Sharon approached her daughter and sat on the edge of the bed. Her holster dug into her hip, but she ignored it as she leaned over and wrapped her eldest in a tight hug.

“Emily,” she whispered, gently stroking her daughter’s hair. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Daddy… Daddy left,” she sobbed, pressing her face into her mom’s shoulder. 

“I know, honey, I know.” She swallowed and hugged Emily a little tighter, unable to form any other words of comfort. How could see tell her daughter that her father was coming back when she wasn’t sure if he would. When she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. “I’m sorry he left, Emily, but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” She kissed her forehead and angled them so they could lay down. 

“I love you too,” Emily mumbled, wiping at her eyes before she curled up closer to her mother. Sharon sighed softly and swallowed, gently rocking her daughter until the girl’s sobs quieted down.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” Emily nodded mutely and Sharon carefully stood up. She gathered her daughter in her arms and groaned softly at the weight. She carried her into the bedroom and lowered her into the bed, planting another kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She was changed and in bed within minutes, making sure Emily was bundled up in the blankets and asleep before she managed to fall asleep herself. 

The following morning, Sharon managed to negotiate her work hours so she could be home with her kids. Excluding officer-involved shootings, she wouldn’t have to worry about late hours again. Despite how recent her promotion to Sergeant was, she was relieved to already see some of its benefits. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon struggles to adapt to the single mother life and her coworkers do little to help. Namely, one Detective Andy Flynn.

Though it wasn’t easy, she managed it for the first few months. It was exhausting to go immediately from work to mom and then back to work faster than a tennis match, but she knew she wouldn’t give her two angels up for anything. A phone call woke Sharon up in the middle of the night three months after Jack left. She was awake in an instant, fumbling for her phone as she sat up and answered it.

“Sergeant Raydor?”

“Y-Yes, I’m here.” She angled the phone away from herself and yawned loudly, returning the phone just in time for her boss to start speaking again.

“Officer involved shooting and I need you at the scene. Robbery/Homicide is already there.” She bit her lip and shook her head a little. She had known this moment would come the moment Jack left, but she didn’t like it now that it was here.

“Which officer?”

“Detective Flynn.”

Sharon huffed softly and stood up, pushing her hair away from her face. “What’s the address? I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

She had her children rounded up and in the car within ten minutes, relieved when they dozed off in the backseat on the way to the scene. She made sure they were still asleep before she exited her car and approached the swarming crime scene, her arms holding her coat tightly around herself. She scanned the area for Flynn, but he found her first.

“Didn’t realize it was ‘bring your kids to work’ tonight,” he huffed. “A heads up and I could have brought my own.”

Sharon rolled her eyes before she turned around to face him, her arms crossing a little tighter. “If detectives could find a better way to handle suspects, we wouldn’t have to be here right now,” she countered easily. She was running on two hours of sleep, four cups of coffee, and concern for her children.

“You wouldn’t know, would you? Safe in your little IA office, never dealing with suspects.” Sharon’s eyebrow arched up and Flynn shook his head, a scowl resting on his face.

“I did my four years as an officer, Detective Flynn. I’ve been on the other side of this my fair share of times, so watch your mouth.” She grabbed a pair of gloves from her pocket and slipped them on before she held her hand out. “Your firearm, please.”

“Claim away, Sergeant. You’ll want to know how I shot the bastard too, I bet?”

“It seems you know the drill. You should think about joining Internal Affairs,” she muttered, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

She led Flynn away from the crowd after handing his firearm off to another officer. She pulled out her notebook and listened as he described the scene, trying to hide any yawns or signs of discomfort from him. Halfway through, Emily appeared by her side and silently leaned against her mother while she resumed her interview with Flynn.

Emily maintained her hold on Sharon’s sleeve throughout the night and the woman sent a silent prayer that Ricky at least stayed asleep. When they finally returned to the car, Sharon reassuringly squeezed her daughter’s hand and held it the entire way home. She would file her report in the morning after her children left for school.

Internal Affairs was a flurry of movement the next morning. Aside from the suspect Flynn had shot the previous night, there had been two officer-involved shootings. Sharon huffed as she left her report and Flynn’s file with her boss, intending to return to her desk to finish another stack of paperwork waiting for her. Instead, she found herself handling Flynn’s firearm with instructions to return it and have him answer a few more questions. She inwardly scowled and made her way down to Robbery/Homicide.

“Detective Flynn?” She scanned the room that was always swarming with people, searching for the dark, spiky hair. “Detective Flynn!” A few officers looked at her, but no one stopped to help. She wasn’t surprised; no one was happy to get a visit from IA and she heard what they called her behind her back.

“He’s not here,” a female officer finally said. “Hasn’t shown up yet, ma’am.”

Sharon sighed and adjusted the evidence bag containing Flynn’s gun. “Is he supposed to be here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She glanced around the room again before she stepped to the side and pulled out her phone. A quick call to her boss left her with further instructions to find the Detective and get their questions answered. As the senior officer on the case, he reminded her, this was her job. More time with Andy Flynn. Just what she wanted.

She plugged the address into her GPS and placed his gun in the passenger seat before she pulled out of the parking garage. She recognized the crossroads where he lived, barely five minutes from her own house. What she wasn’t expecting was the dilapidated apartment complex she found.

Sharon made sure that she had her own weapon and tucked Flynn’s into her purse before she even got out of the car. She double checked the apartment number and started down a broken sidewalk, her eyes watching the doors and windows while she searched for 2008. Within a few minutes she found 1008 and slowly climbed the rickety stairs to the second floor where she knocked on the paint-peeled door.

She heard nothing for a few moments and then a door downstairs slammed shut. She took a deep breath and held her purse a little closer as she knocked again. “Detective Flynn?”

Rustling came from behind the door and it rattled as something forcefully hit it. Concerned, Sharon’s hand moved closer to her gun and she took a step back from the door.

“Who’s it?” A heavily slurred voice that was distinctly Flynn’s came from behind the door and Sharon’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Sergeant Raydor.” She wrinkled her nose, trying to ignore the little voice in her head that told her she needed to return to her maiden name. “I have a few more questions about last night.”

“Course you do,” he growled, but she heard the door unlock and then he opened it.

She came face to face with a disheveled wreck of a man. He looked worse than Jack ever had. Andy had a split lip, a black eye, stained clothes from last night, and a bottle of beer.

“At least you’re not drinking on duty. May I come in?” She hid her wince of sympathy, wondering what kind of trouble the man had gotten himself into. She gave him another once over and expected him to deny her entry. instead, he stepped back and she hesitantly entered the dimly lit apartment.

“What? He drained the last of the beer from the bottle and tossed it onto the couch before he crossed his arms and stared at her. Sharon wasn’t sure she wanted to return his firearm with him in this condition.

She cleared her throat and nodded once, trying to focus on him and not look around at the barely-furnished room. “Last night you said you fired two rounds. Only one bullet was missing from your magazine and we found it in the suspect. So who fired the other round, Detective?”

Flynn continued staring at her and she calmly met his gaze, her lips pursed as she waited for his response. She eyed the bruising and dried blood, wondering what could break someone this badly. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Jack was like this somewhere. After several moments, it seemed that Andy wouldn’t provide her with an answer.

“Detective?” she finally prompted.

Flynn shook his head and blinked slowly a few times. “I needs to sit,” he finally mumbled, still stumbling over his words.

Sharon watched as he made his way to the couch and lowered himself down. Her brow furrowed as she trailed after him, pausing only to leave her purse on the table. She knelt down in front of him, her maternal instincts kicking in. He clearly wasn’t in any state to answer her questions. This close, she could smell how strong the alcohol was on his breath and how irregular his breathing was.

“Detective?” She reached a hand out and rested it on his, her fingers curling around to check his pulse. Flynn barely reacted. “Can you hear me?”

Flynn grunted softly, but Sharon knew the symptoms well enough. She hesitantly left his side to retrieve her phone and keys, 911 already dialed by the time she returned to his side.

“Sergeant Sharon Raydor here. I’m with someone who’s suffering from alcohol poisoning. I’m not sure how much longer he’ll be conscious.”

She checked his pulse again and was relieved to see that he was still conscious, but very out of it. She provided the operator with the information she knew about her fellow officer, most of it remembered from his file. He seemed to become less aware as Sharon stayed on the line until she heard the sirens stop outside his apartment complex.

She immediately stepped out of the way and watched as the paramedics loaded Flynn into the ambulance. She glanced around his apartment as she called his direct superior, her tone clipped as she informed him about what was happening to his detective. She grabbed Flynn’s keys as she ended the call, locking up his apartment before she hurried to her car to follow them to the hospital.

He was asleep by the time she reached the hospital, so she sighed and left his keys on the table. She couldn’t do anything with him asleep, so she instructed the doctor to call her as soon as he woke up. Hopefully, he’d be in a better state to answer her questions.

She yawned as she left his room, amazed that it was barely noon and she was already ready to be done. The late night at the scene certainly hadn’t helped and she hoped Emily was faring better at school. She sidestepped another officer that was approaching, glancing up in time to see Detective Provenza. He was as bad as Flynn, but without the drinking.

“Oh, Sergeant Raydor. Torturing Flynn again? He wasn’t injured on duty, so why are you here?” Provenza raised an eyebrow and stared at her, his arms stiff by his sides.

“I’m the one who called 911,” she stated and watched as his eyes widened in surprise. “We were discussing his last case and I had a few more questions. I discovered him barely conscious from alcohol poisoning. I’ll question him when he’s awake again. Good day, Detective.”

She walked by him without another word, silently cursing the alcoholics that seemed to surround her life. If either of her kids decided to take after their father, she swore to herself that she’d slap some sense into them. Since her boss had already cleared her to remain as long as she needed to in order to get her questions answered, she decided not to return to the office.

Sharon spent another two hours at the hospital before she had her questions answered. Another hour at work had her report finalized and she was finally cleared to leave. It was only when she returned home a few minutes before Emily and Ricky’s bus that she realized she had left her purse in Flynn’s apartment.

She reluctantly left early the next morning so she could stop by the hospital. Flynn was awake and sitting up in bed, but he looked pale and drawn. Sharon sighed softly but steeled herself before she knocked on the door and walked in. Flynn raised an eyebrow and shot her a small glare.

“I thought we were done. I get the feeling you’re harassing me now.”

“I’m sorry, next time I’ll let you drink yourself to death,” she huffed, her arms crossing over her chest.

“So what now? What do you want?”

“I left my purse in your apartment.” She straightened her back and forced herself to look at him, unwilling to let her embarrassment overwhelm her.

“How the hell did you manage that?” Flynn shifted in his bed, growling at the mess of wires and tubes.

“I was making sure your apartment was locked up and secure before I followed you to the hospital.” Flynn’s glare faltered and neither said anything for a few moments. “I just need my purse and then I’ll be gone.”

“How do you intend to get it?” Flynn finally gave up on untangling the wires and crossed his arms.

“Dammit, Detective! I need my purse so I can get to work. Some of us enjoy not walking the line of getting fired. Some of us need this job to support their family.” She groaned quietly and closed her eyes briefly. It was like working with a child, like working with Jack when he was drunk. It seemed her wayward detective and her husband had a lot in common. God forbid they ever meet.

“Fine, take my keys and bring them back. Touch anything and I’ll know about it.” Sharon hesitated a moment before she scooped the keys off the table and huffed softly.

“Good day, Detective Flynn.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a single mother is hard, but at least Sharon Raydor has someone to help out.

Somehow, Sharon and her kids made it through the holidays and into the new year. 2000. She didn’t hear from Jack and she had no interest in seeing him again, but she noticed how Ricky seemed to grow more distant in his father’s absence. Try as she might, Sharon knew she could never replace their father. She continued struggling to juggle her two lives and she couldn’t deny that she was exhausted, never having a chance to breathe for herself. Despite the exhaustion, she still preferred it to dealing with her husband’s alcoholism. She tried not to think about that too hard. It all still wore on the mid-thirties mom, stress leaving her with an almost constant headache. She clung on, if only by a miracle. 

Ricky came home sick first; Sharon had to leave work early to take him to the doctor and was relieved when it was just a winter cold. Emily caught it a few days later. As much as she hated to leave them, Sharon had to return to work, but she kept her phone near her at all times in case either needed her. She made sure her neighbor, Sally, kept an eye on them as well.

She had rushed out of the house that morning on the way to work, trying to ignore her own oncoming symptoms. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Hours later, she didn’t feel any better. 

She groaned softly as she slid out of her car and took in the crime scene in the setting sun. She was mildly surprised that Flynn hadn’t been the involved officer when she received the call. She was already cleaning up one of his messes and she couldn’t handle another.

She cleared her throat to avoid a cough and tried to forgot how her body ached with each breath and step. As she passed the suspect’s body, she looked it over and shook her head slightly while another officer briefed her on the case. She tried to focus, but it was taking most of her energy to remain on her feet.

“Sergeant Raydor?” She blinked her eyes and looked at the officer. Young, recently graduated.

“Yes?” She cleared her throat and managed to focus on the woman’s words.

“Lieutenant Darin is ready for you.” She had a feeling it wasn’t the first time the officer had said that. 

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded once and glanced around in search of the familiar, lightheaded lieutenant. She found him waiting under a tree a few yards away. She picked her way across the mess of officers to his side, her head positively throbbing. “Evening, Lieutenant.”

“Good evening, Sergeant Raydor.” He smiled at her and she managed a small smile in return.

“How are you holding up?” She glanced back at the body and the puddle of blood surrounding him. It was a good, clean shot. He likely died instantly. 

“He was a right bastard. Killed and raped three women, in that order.” Sharon cringed; there was a reason why she was behind the scenes in IA.

“At least show some remorse when you go in for your therapy and in your statement,” she warned softly as she resisted the urge to close her eyes against the bright orange sun. 

“Of course, Sergeant. I didn’t want to shoot him, but when he’s waving a gun around…” He trailed off and shook his head as she turned back to face him. She pulled out her notebook and felt him watching her, but she didn’t look up as she searched for an open page. “You okay, Sharon? You look like the one who just shot and killed someone.”

Darin was one of only a few people that could get away with that, partly because he had a higher rank and partly because he had known her since she was in the academy. “I’m fine,” she responded immediately. “Go ahead and,” she paused and took a deep breath, “and tell me what happened.”

“Sure. We’ve been searching for him for weeks. Following a trail of bodies,” he sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the tree trunk. “We got a tip of where he might be, so we sent out a team.”

Sharon focused in on her blank notebook, her eyes closing briefly. _You’re not going to be sick_ , she whispered to herself. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re paler than a rookie at her first body.” She swallowed and slowly looked up to face Darin.

“Just a small cold I caught from the kids,” she answered after a moment. “Continue, please.”

“Do you need to sit down?” She raised an eyebrow and searched his concern-filled face.

“Do you plan on taking that long?” she countered, her eyebrow arching a little higher.

Darin grinned. “Fair enough.”

Though she’d never admit it, Sharon was grateful that Darin hurried through the rest of his statement. He knew the important points to mention and there weren’t any gray areas with the shooting. She shooed him away when she was done and watched the scene for a few moments while she gathered her energy to move again.

She returned to work, deciding to knock out her report now to make the following day easier. What she didn’t expect was an order from her boss to take the day off and get better. She wondered if Darin had anything to do with it, but knew he’d never own up to it. Feeling relieved, she wrapped up her report and left it on her desk before she headed home for the night.

For the first time in months, Sharon slept in. It was nearly noon by the time she woke, rolling over in the empty bed and coughing. She rubbed at her eyes and pushed herself up, barely able to make out the time on the clock without her glasses.

“Crap!” She hurried from bed and pushed her glasses on as she stumbled from her bedroom. Her head didn’t appreciate the quick movements and neither did her stomach.

She glanced in Emily’s room and was surprised to find it empty. Her daughter’s backpack was gone too. She let out a breath as guilt settled heavily on her shoulders. Emily was eleven, she wasn’t meant to be getting her brother and herself off to school. Swallowing, she rubbed at her head as she checked Ricky’s room and found it empty as well. She groaned quietly and leaned against the wall for a few moments before she carefully and slowly started downstairs. She was halfway into the kitchen before she noticed Charlie Darin sitting at the table. 

He looked up from his book and smiled at her. “Hello, Sleeping Beauty.” He closed his book and walked over to the sink to wash his coffee mug out.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice came out hoarse and she winced, her hand coming up to lightly rub at her neck.

“I brought over some homemade soup.” He gestured to a pot on the stove and shrugged as he grabbed a bottle of water and offered it to her.

“Thank you…” She uncapped the bottle and sipped it as she sat down, leaning lightly against the table.

Darin sat next to her, but neither said anything for a few minutes. Sharon was still trying to wake up and he seemed to realize that.

Finally, he sighed and looked at her. “Emily answered the door and said you were still sleeping. I made sure they got to school and decided I would make sure you were okay too.” His voice was soft, but she still felt the guilt slam into her again. He noticed. “Emily made me promise not to wake you up. She said you needed the rest.”

“She’s eleven,” she protested, her voice cracking. She took another drink and sighed.

“And very mature. C’mon, have some soup and then you need to rest.”

“You don’t have to do this, Charlie.” She wrapped her hands around the bottle and moved it closer so she could rest her chin on the lid.

“Oh, come on. I’ve got the day off while IA and FID finish the investigation. You’re sick and this is what friends do.” He smiled and rested his hand over hers briefly.

“So you’re not going to leave?”

“Not unless you force me out.” He grinned and laughed. “I dosed up on vitamin C, so you can’t get me sick.”

She shook her head slowly, but a small smile was placing on her lips. “Fine.”

He offered his hand and she took it; he pulled her to her feet and carefully led her back up the stairs. He made sure she settled into the bed before he returned for the soup. She turned the TV on and propped herself up against the headboard with the blankets drawn over her lap. Charlie came up a few minutes later and handed her a bowl of chicken noodle soup. He settled on the bed beside her with his book and shot her a small smile.

“Eat up and don’t make me pull rank.” He watched until she started eating before he opened his book and let out a soft hum.

She ate most of the soup and finished off her water before she settled on her side—facing Charlie—and fell asleep. He was still there a few hours later when she woke up and only left when she assured him she could handle it. Despite being ill, it was the best she had felt in a while.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crime scene goes wrong, but Lieutenant Darin is there to help.

Charlie Darin became a more permanent fixture in her personal life, though they rarely saw each other at work. She didn’t mind, though. Especially when she saw how Ricky opened up to him and how much Emily loved to be around him. It gave her space to breathe that she hadn’t had since Jack’s drinking problem started years ago. It made things a little more bearable. If she thought about it, she was happier than she had almost ever been with Jack. But each time her thoughts wandered in that direction, she shut them down.

At work, Andy Flynn’s file seemed to be glued to her desk. She noticed that she seemed to be the only person to investigate him, but she chose not to fixate on that. She also tried to stop herself from wondering how he was still employed by the LADP. She threatened him (and his partner Provenza) with sensitivity training whenever she could in the hopes that it would have an effect. It rarely did.

Halfway through March, his file curiously disappeared for nearly three weeks. It was only on a rainy April day that it reappeared with no updates since her last one. She huffed in surprise as she read over the note that accompanied it; it told her she wouldn’t be having a quiet day.

Detective Provenza was involved in a shooting and he had requested her as the investigating officer. She wondered if it was tied to Flynn’s file’s reappearance as she drove to the address she had been given. 

It was a quiet, well-off neighborhood. Or at least it was before the LAPD tracked a killer into it and shot him. She watched the scene from her car as she grabbed her umbrella, deciding it was better to get this over with. Red, white, and blue lights reflected off the houses darkened by the storm and she shivered as she held the umbrella up. She strode across the street to where Provenza was standing beneath his own umbrella with his telltale frown on and his hands by his sides. 

“Detective.” She adjusted her umbrella so it didn’t tangle with his and looked him over. “What happened?”

“If you insist.” He scowled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t get a chance to anything further.

Two gunshots pierced the rain and the officers scattered. Sharon and Provenza dropped their umbrellas as they dashed for the nearest shelter. They ended up behind the open door of a black and white, blinking the rain from their eyes as they searched for the shooter. There was silence and she was aware of Provenza shifting beside her, but she didn’t dare look. She shook her head a little to dislodge a raindrop, biting her lip as she continued scanning.

Finally, a shadow started moving toward them. Someone shouted for the officers to hold their fire, but Sharon’s hand tightened on her gun. 

“Put the gun down and your hands in the air,” another voice shouted.

The shadow continued moving closer, their movements slow and unsteady. Aside from the rain, silence had fallen over the street again. 

“Ye Gods, he’s got a kid with him,” Provenza whispered. Sharon managed to focus in through her rain-splattered glasses and confirm the detective’s words. 

Their shooter was a young man who had his hand tangled in a child’s hair and a gun aimed at her head. Sharon let out a breath and shifted carefully where she knelt; one knee was in a puddle, but she ignored it as best she could.

“This just got messy,” she replied.

“Drop your weapon!” Several officers yelled at their shooter. Though he had stopped walking, he showed no indication of listening.

“Shut up or I shoot the girl,” their shooter finally hissed over the thunder that rolled around them. “You bastards killed my brother!”

“Not bastards, just me,” Provenza muttered. Sharon groaned softly in response.

Their shooter scanned the officers surrounding him, but she didn’t know how well he could see through the rain. She saw the girl wince and assumed his hand had tightened in her hair. He aimed the gun at the officers instead, barely a few yards to their left. He slowly moved it, turning closer to closer to where she was with Provenza.

Two shots fired one after the other, followed by another brief moment of silence. Sharon let out a soft gasp and fell back on her heels before her shoulder exploded in pain. She collapsed back against the car with her legs bent underneath her, immediately pressing her hand to her shoulder and gasping again.

“Dammit, Sergeant!” Provenza looked out at where the shooter was before he unloaded his gun and leaned over her. He rested his hand over hers briefly and then straightened up to look around. Sharon clenched her teeth, trying not to cry out.

“It he dead?” she managed, her voice barely steady.

“He’s down. Girl’s okay,” he answered shortly. “Hell of a shot, Sergeant, but I thought you were supposed to be investigating me. Not shooting someone yourself.”

She huffed softly and immediately groaned, her grip tightening on her shoulder. She didn’t want to look at it. “Take our guns,” she mumbled instead. “Evidence…”

Provenza looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. It was hard to make out his features and she swallowed. She stretched her fingers out to her right and tried to keep her shoulder still while she searched for her gun. Her fingers finally found the wet metal and she nudged it toward the detective.

“You were shot. We’ll get you to an ambulance first.” His voice was firm and Sharon swallowed, her stomach flipping dangerously. “Let’s go.” He slipped his arm around her waist and she let out a shaky breath as he helped her wrap her arm around his neck. “Ready? It’s gonna hurt.”

Sharon bit her lip until it bled as they stood up, her body crying out with pain. She clung to Provenza as they slowly made their way around the car toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. She could see shapes moving around, but the flashing lights made it hard to focus on anything. She stumbled and Provenza’s grip tightened around her; he was practically holding her up when they finally reached the ambulance.

“Another two are on their way,” she heard a paramedic explain. “Let’s get her laying down and that bleeding stopped.”

Suddenly, Provenza was above her instead of beside her and there was something pillowing her head. The asphalt dug into her back, but it didn’t compare to her shoulder. 

“Get out guns,” she forced out.

“I know what to do, I’m not incompetent,” he grumbled and it drew a weak laugh from her. “Just focus on that injury, Sergeant.” 

He disappeared from her sight and a blurry face replaced it. Several raindrops hit her face and then stopped. In the back of her mind, she realized she must have lost her glasses and hoped that Provenza would find them. 

“What’s your name, Sergeant?” Sharon blinked her eyes a few times to clear the water from her lashes and swallowed.

“Sharon Raydor,” she groaned. She sucked in a shaky breath and gasped as it jarred her shoulder.

“Okay, Sharon. Do we need to call anyone for you?”

She immediately thought of Jack, but then thought of her children sleeping at home. “My kids, at home.”

“Kids, okay. How many?”

“Two,” she mumbled, her lips quirking up a little. “Emily and Ricky.” She barely got his name out before a wave of pain overwhelmed her. She tried to curl onto her side to escape it, but the paramedic kept her on her back.

She wasn’t sure if she zoned out or completely passed out, but the hospital was the next thing she was aware of. The room was blurry once she got her eyes open; the lights were too bright and her mind was foggy from sleep and medicine. After a few minutes, she dared to push herself up a little, but her shoulder cried out after a small movement and she immediately fell still. She let out a harsh breath and let her head fall back against the bed. She looked up just as a nurse entered.

“Morning,” the nurse hummed. Sharon watched her for a moment before her eyes fell shut again.

“Morning…”

The nurse checked her vitals for a few moments and Sharon focused on regaining her breath. “What do you remember?” the nurse asked after a minute.

“I was shot,” she huffed in response, her eyes reluctantly opening to focus on the woman.

“Mhmm. How do you feel?”

“Pain, eight.” She licked her lips and shifted her left hand on the bed. She didn’t dare move her right again. “I need to see my children.”

The nurse nodded and adjusted her medication level. “Your husband is here with them. I’ll send ‘em in.”

She withheld a groan and instead bit her lip. She didn’t want to see Jack, but she needed to reassure her kids. And maybe Jack’s presence said something about him. She noticed the nurse had left and took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for seeing her husband again after all these months. 

It wasn’t her husband who walked through the door.

“Sally called me when she heard,” Charlie looked her over as he guided her children into the room.

“Mama!” Emily ran to her side, but Ricky lingered behind Charlie.

“Hey, sweetie.” She reached out and took her daughter’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she mumbled. Sharon noticed dried tear stains on her face and inwardly cringed. “Are you okay?”

She nodded after a moment and glanced at Ricky again. “Just a little scratch. I’ll be home in no time.” She smiled a little and gestured to Ricky. “Come here, honey.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand once more before she dropped it and extended hers to Ricky. Her son cautiously approached her and she wrapped her arm around him as best she could. “You okay?”

Her son nodded and leaned against the bed. She gently stroked his arm and swallowed. He looked exhausted and she knew that she couldn’t look much better.

“Charlie kept us company. Told us you were okay,” Emily said softly.

“I’m glad.” Sharon managed a smile at glanced at the lieutenant. “Are you guys hungry?” Emily nodded and shifted where she stood by her brother. “Why don’t you guys go get something to eat? I think there’s some cash in my wallet.”

Emily hesitated but after another smile from her mom, she nodded and grabbed the purse. Sharon watched as her daughter took her brother’s hand and led him from the room. After the door shut behind them, Charlie sat down and leaned forward to rest his arms on her bed.

“Detective Provenza found these.” He gently placed her glasses on her face and she let out a breath as the room came into focus. “IA or your bosses come up yet?”

Sharon shook her head slightly, feeling the medication start to kick in and soothe her shoulder. “No, just woke up,” she breathed out.

“It was pretty bad out there, from what I heard. Higher ups are pissed that we didn’t catch everyone the first time around.” He shook his head and looked her over. “What’s your diagnosis?”

“Haven’t seen the doctor yet.” Her throat and mouth felt dry and she let out a shaky breath. “What am I going to do, Charlie?” She wasn’t sure if it was the medication or the stress or a combination of both, but she suddenly felt the weight of her family settle on her chest and shoulders.

“Hey. Hey, now. Breathe for me, yeah?” His hand closed over hers on the bed and she obediently took a deep breath. “There you go. Now, talk to me.” He smiled and stroked his thumb over her hand.

“I can barely manage Ricky and Emily when I’m healthy, let alone injured.” She swallowed and he squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’ll help,” he offered, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

She slowly turned her head to look at him, her brow creased with pain. “You have your own life,” she murmured, her hand squeezing his. 

“Not really.” He grinned and glanced at the monitor above her bed before his gaze fell to her again. “Let me help.”

Sharon’s eyes fluttered shut and she let out a long breath. “What would I do without you, Charlie?” she finally asked softly. 

“You’d have one less officer to investigate, but other than that I don’t know.” She heard him laugh again and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Get some rest. I’ll keep the kids occupied and we’ll see you when you wake up.”

“Thank you.” Her words were slightly slurred as the medicine moved through her system and she was asleep within minutes.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas, which brings a whole slew of problems for Sharon and her kids.

As soon as Halloween passed, everything turned to Christmas. Snowflakes and ornaments appeared in every window save for the few groceries stores advertising their turkeys for Thanksgiving. Each reminder added to the guilt in Sharon’s stomach as she passed by them, futilely shoving it to the back of her mind. Emily and Ricky had already started on their Christmas lists, already wanted to go see Santa at the mall. Sharon could barely find time to spend with her children, let alone time to go shopping.

She had spent far too many nights out at a crime scene—she felt like she was more a part of Robber/Homicide than Internal Affairs. She could see the effects it had on her children and that worried her more than her own exhaustion; even with Charlie’s help. The older officer couldn’t be a father to her children like Jack was supposed to be. She found herself almost yearning for her husband, if only to see her kids smile.

“Mom!” Emily shouted from the top of the stairs and Sharon closed her eyes as she leaned against the kitchen table. “Mom!”

“Yes, Emily?” Her voice came out tired and strained, and for once she was grateful that her daughter was too involved in her tantrum to notice. 

“Where’s my ballet bag?” 

Sharon sighed and stood up, knowing that this wouldn’t be something easily found by the young ballerina. She made her way into the living room and grabbed the pink bag off the couch, double checking that it had everything Emily would need in it.

“Mom!”

“I’m coming, Emily.” She rubbed at her head and carried the bag upstairs, offering it to her daughter before she even reached the landing. 

Emily’s frown faded instantly and she grabbed the bag with a mumbled ‘thank you’ before she hurried into her bedroom to finish getting ready. Ricky emerged a moment later, rubbing at his eyes and yawning loudly. Sharon was relieved to see he was at least dressed.

“Breakfast is ready, honey,” she told him, her irritation with her daughter fading almost immediately. 

“With chocolate milk too?” He smiled up at her, his dark eyes full of sleep; he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep the previous night and Sharon felt guilty.

“Of course. Chocolate chip pancakes too.”

She followed her son downstairs and made sure he was settled at the table before she brought him his breakfast, leaning against the counter to watch as he almost immediately woke up. Pancakes, it seemed, had the same effect on him that coffee did with her.

“I made a new Christmas list,” he told her when he was more awake. He pushed his plate back and Sharon raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, what did we add to it now? I’m sure I can pass it along to Santa.” She smiled at him and heard Emily start down the stairs, her bag clunking against the steps.

“I’ll go grab it!” With a wide smile, Ricky was gone and up the stairs by his sister. 

Emily wasn’t nearly as upbeat as her younger brother, plopping down in the empty space with a tired yawn. Wordlessly, Sharon placed apple juice and pancakes in front of her before she cleared Ricky’s dishes away and took a long sip of her coffee. 

Within minutes, Ricky was back downstairs and extending a piece of notebook to his mother. She took it and kissed his forehead before he moved into the living room to watch what he could of Sesame Street before school. She finished off her coffee as her eyes moved over his Christmas list. She kept a careful smile on her face, willing her inner emotions not to show through.

Daddy  
Puppy!  
Bike  
Hot Wheels  
Magic Tree House books  
Daddy  
At least new tires for my bike?  
Shoes

She took a deep breath and folded the list up so she could tuck it in her blazer pocket. Three of those things she could possibly make happen, but she knew they weren’t the things at the top of his list and there was nothing she could do about that. She adjusted her glasses and turned to Emily, relieved that her daughter was engrossed in breakfast—or at least trying to stay awake.

“Have you written your list down?” she asked, grateful when her voice came out steadier than she expected. 

“No, I’ll do it tonight,” she muttered and finished off her apple juice.

“At least you can sleep in tomorrow. Sally offered to bring over her kids and make Christmas cookies with you guys.” Sharon only regretted she couldn’t find enough time to do that. “And maybe tonight we can start decorating? I’ll pull the tree out and everything.”

Emily looked up and Sharon saw a hint of a smile in her eldest’s face. She only hoped she could live up to this promise; she couldn’t stand to have her kids disappointed by both parents.

“Really?” she asked softly. Sharon forced a smile.

“Yeah. It’s about time we decorated, don’t you think?”

Emily was up and hugging her mother before the woman could process what had happened. She wrapped her arms around her daughter and kissed her dark hair, a sincere but small smile crossing her lips.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered into Sharon’s shoulder—when had her baby girl gotten this tall?

“I love you too,” she murmured in reply. “Come on, let’s get you both to school.”

She squeezed her daughter and kissed her forehead before she stepped back, silently praying that she could make Christmas work out. Or at least the following weekend. That’s all she wanted for Christmas. 

Emily moved to grab her ballet bag and Sharon drew a reluctant Ricky away from his favorite characters. She had them out the door in what had to be record time and managed to keep an upbeat conversation between the three of them the entire ride to school. She tried not to think about how it was the most time she’d spent with her kids in a while.

Her kids were barely out of the car before she got called in to work. She sighed, despite already being on her way. A call meant she would have a file or two waiting for her and that she wouldn’t get a chance to ease into her day. 

She wasn’t surprised to see Andrew Flynn’s file on her desk. She could spot it a mile away from just the size. She shook her head and sank into her chair, her purse and blazer haphazardly thrown over the back. She stared at the file for a moment before she finally opened it to peruse her most recent notes until she got to his latest encounter. Not to her surprise, it had involved alcohol.

Another trip to Detective Flynn’s house was the last thing Sharon wanted to do, especially after the previous incident. He still tried to make quips about her leaving her things behind, but she had learned not to respond to them. She postponed the visit as much as she could, but her superior officer’s note glared at her from the front of Flynn’s file and she knew it had to be done. Reluctantly, she gathered her things and headed out, mildly grateful that this could mean an early night for her. 

Unlike the previous time, Flynn answered the door almost immediately. His frown darkened as he took in the Sergeant before him and he made no move to let her inside. “Sergeant Raydor. Can’t say it’s a pleasure.”

She could read the signs of a hangover all over him and sighed softly. “I don’t suppose I need to explain why I’m here.”

“Of course not. Commander called ahead and said you were on your way.” His voice was gruff and he made no effort to hide his displeasure. 

“If you could do your job, Detective, these visits would stop.” She arched an eyebrow and allowed a hint—just a hint—of her own displeasure to show through. “I have much better things I could be doing.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay. I have things I could be doing as well.” Flynn rested his forearms on the doorframe and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to glare or squinting against the sunlight. 

“I have a job to do,” she told him, her voice firm. “We’re either going to do this right here, or you can let me inside. I’m sure the darkness will help your headache.” 

She was surprised when Flynn took a step back and gestured for her to enter his apartment. It was cleaner than she had last see it, but he shut the door before she could get a clear look. He started into the living room and she followed; as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she made out the few beer bottles scattered around. No more than a six-pack, but it certainly explained his situation.

“I know I should have been more careful last night. I don’t need you pointing that out.” He collapsed back onto the couch and Sharon couldn’t get the image of the last time she had seen this out of her head. “I don’t need another woman bitching at me about my choices.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly and cast a quick glance around the room as she settled on the edge of the chair. From what she had heard, Flynn’s personal life hadn’t been the greatest; she knew he was either divorced or in the process of getting divorced. If he was like this at work, she could see why a woman wouldn’t stay with him.

“The last time I was here, you were hospitalized because of alcohol poisoning. Surely that would change your mind about drinking.” She stared at him, his IA file momentarily forgotten. “And if that didn’t, at least the thought of your family should.” From experience, she knew that it wasn’t. But Flynn wasn’t her husband.

He laughed, bitterly, and shook his head a little. “What’s the point. Sarah took the kids and left the papers. No amount of… anything is gonna bring her back.”

“Have you tried making an effort instead of rolling over and giving up?” She knew this was dangerous territory, and not just because of her personal life. She had no business—especially coming from Internal Affairs—to be digging into his life like this. 

He shook his head again and looked over at her. “Like you would know,” he grumbled.

“I would, actually. My own husband is an alcoholic. Left about a year ago.” The information was out before she could stop it and she immediately clamped her mouth shut. 

“So clearly he didn’t make an effort either.” 

Sharon closed her eyes briefly and shook her head, her curled hair sweeping over her shoulders. “That’s my point. He gave up and left instead of trying to get sober. Just because your wife left instead of you, doesn’t mean you should give up.” 

They stared at each other for a few minutes; less tension was between them than Sharon could ever remember and she wasn’t inclined to break it anytime soon. Flynn finally leaned forward and rubbed at his temples.

“Getting sober won’t bring my wife back,” he sighed. His tone was still bitter, but it wasn’t directed at her.

“No, but sometimes marriages don’t last. Your children, however… You can start to mend things with them and maybe have a relationship with them in the future.” Her voice was soft and though she tried to keep her expression firm, she felt her eyes softening behind her glasses. 

“If you had this conversation with your husband, why didn’t he stay?” Flynn’s expression shifted and she looked down before she could analyze the change. 

“Because some people love the drink more than their family,” she murmured. She shook her head a little and cleared her throat before she looked up at him, her emotions carefully locked away. “Why don’t you drink some water and take a few painkillers. Call me when you feel up to answering my questions.” She paused a moment and stood up. “If you get sober and prove it, I’ll let this one slide.”

He looked up at her in surprise and she calmly met his gaze. “Really?”

“Prove it, Detective. I mean sobriety chips and everything.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She nodded and watched him for a moment before she helped herself out the door, leaving Flynn sitting on the couch. She didn’t stop to contemplate their conversation or what she had told him. If she did, it would introduce too many thoughts of Jack and she had enough from him already for the day. Ricky’s Christmas list still burned a hole in her pocket.

With a sigh, she returned to her car and ran her fingers through her hair. The day hadn’t turned out like she had expected it to, but at least it looked like she would be able to hold to her promise with Emily about decorating. It was the little things, she decided.


End file.
